


Lifeboat

by TheTiniestLifeboat



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Depression, F/F, Heather Mac and Veronica later, PTSD, Rape, Self Harm, Self destruction, Song fic, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, eadting disorder, self hatred, this gets quite sad, trigger - Freeform, tw: ed, warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10023056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTiniestLifeboat/pseuds/TheTiniestLifeboat
Summary: A Heather McNamara song fic.Why her? What had she done that was so terrible? Heather just wanted it all to end..Contains triggering material, PLEASE do not read if it might be triggering for you. If anyone needs to talk, please message me :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I started writing this ages ago, and I've not edited it yet, so all the later chapters will be much better than the first few.   
> If anyone needs to talk or rant, just send me a message, I know what you are going through

_I float in a boat_

_In a raging black ocean_

 

The first time Heather McNamara was on a boat, was when she was 8, and it was the annual McNamara summer family get together on Heather's family boat. It wasn't so much as a boat, but a large yacht. They were sailing through the beautiful blue ocean, and the warm summer sun together with the cooling breeze made the perfect day. That was until you noticed the solitary figure sitting alone at the back.

 

Heather sat by herself, knees tucked into her chest as she sniffles and wiped the remaining tears from her clear blue eyes. She wasn't exactly sure how she started crying, but she guessed it was probably from another dick comment her parents had made during lunch. The McNamara family was rich, there was no doubting that, but what they say about being rich but unhappy was true. Mr McNamara was a well respected business man, and his company earned millions of dollars every year, whilst Mrs McNamara was an ex-Hollywood actress. Through all this, they were bitter and selfish and enjoyed making snide homophobic comments. Heather knew it didn't have anything to do with her, so why did she feel so much about it? She was sensitive and weak, she knew that, her parents never failed to tell her. And mock her.

 

All she knew was that while she sniffles and gazed at the water, her 2 older cousins, Mark and Anthony sneaked up being her.

 

"Hey cry-baby! Whatcha crying about now?" Mark said, a sickening smirk on his chiselled face.

 

"Nothing," she muttered, turning away from him, so she was now fully facing the low barrier and the dark blue sea that lay beyond it.

 

"Why do you always have to be such a selfish brat and whine all the time, Heather? You always have to make everything about you. Can't you grow up and learn to take a joke, dyke?" Anthony grabbed her arm, and as she twisted frantically to get away, a twisted smile grew over his own face.

 

 

"Grab her other arm, Mark," Mark did as he was told, as he too realised what Anthony was planning. The next thing Heather knew was that she was sinking, down down down. The water was cold, and almost black from her angle, and her 8 year old brain could only think: Why? She could swim, but the shock from being thrown in caused her reactions to slow down. Her long blonde hair swirled around her, as she relaxed and breathed out her last breath.

 

The next thing she knew was waking up with a start in hospital, with only the bleeping of her heart monitor to keep her company. Her parents weren't there. Nobody was. Apparently her father had heard the splash, and had come to investigate. When he found her not returning to the surface, he had had to jump in after her, and he was furious about it. He ruined a perfectly good, brand new suit and leather shoes saving her scrawny ass.

 

When she was allowed out of hospital, she was sent to her room for 4 days, not allowed, and not allowed food. During this time, she realised something: she should have just remained invisible, and that if felt _good_ not to eat for 4 days.


	2. Chapter 2

_Low in the water_

_With no where to go_

_The tiniest lifeboat_

_With people I know._

 

She was 11 when she found Heather and Heather. It was her second week of high school, and already she was sick of being shoved into lockers, and laughed at during P.E. She didn't dare complain to her parents though. Her father's temper was as short as a matchstick, and he would have little to do with her. She hadn't the guts to stand up for herself though, and so took her classmates taunts and jeers, and the little-more-than-occassional punch. So that's how she found herself, standing in front of the secretary's office, a bruise on her cheek, and a big black eye.

 

She stood, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. She had never been in this much trouble before. One of the older boys, Ram, had wolf-whistled her and tried to grab her bum as she passed in the corridor. Of course Heather had turned back to ask why he thought it was OK, and he had hit her. Hard. But then of course Mrs Flemming, the hippie teacher came round the corner and saw Heather lunging at Ram, and suddenly it was her who was the bully and might even be suspended for the 'lack of community spirit'.

 

The door to the head teachers office slammed shut, and a blonde girl dressed almost entirely in red came strutting out towards Heather. 

 

"Urgh," she said. "That asshole. He thinks I'm not dressed appropriately." She was dressed in a white blouse and tight red shorts, knee length red socks and (small) black heels. Heather blinked at the swear word, they were 11, they shouldn't be swearing (or dressing) like that! 

 

"Anyway, what are you here for, Sunny" the girl asked rudely.

 

"Being bullied and picked on by Kurt and Ram, who apparently I was bullying. And my name's not Sunny, it's Heather" she answered back indignantly. She was hurt by the girls comment, so what if she liked yellow?! She only wore it because yellow was a happy colour, and she so desperately wanted to be happy.

 

"No shit! My name's Heather too! Heather Chandler." Red girl thrust her hand out towards other Heather.

 

"Heather McNamara"

 

"Heather McNamara?" The bored secretary stuck her head round the door. "The principle is ready to see you now."

 

"I'll wait for you, and when you get out, I'll introduce you to my other friend, the other-other Heather. Duke."

 

And finally, Heather M. had two best friends who would be by her side always. They were only 11, and yet they ruled the school, each in her own significant colour. This was all she had wanted, wasn't it?

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Cold, clammy, and crowded_

_The people smell desperate_

_We'll sink any minute_

 

Being part of the most popular clique in the school had its perks. The students parted like Moses' wave whenever they saw the Heathers coming, and they would do anything to stay on Heather Chandler's good side. People would do anything for the three 13 year olds. But then there was the bad things. The way Heather's classmates seemed to leer at her and laugh at her behind her back, the way they bitched about her, and the way they would make their own snide comments. She began resenting going to school, because of the people who always made her feel bad, and that there was something wrong with her.

 

Home wasn't an option either, unfortunately. Her father had been tolerable enough, Heather normally hid in her room until dinner, or until she had to leave for anyone of her numerous after-school activities, but now that her 2 older siblings had left for collage, his mood had soured more than she thought it ever could. She spent most of her free time doing the housework or running errands for him, and combined with 6 hours of school, clubs, sports, homework and now the housework, it was a miracle if she ever fell into bed before 1AM. As a result, the black bags beneath her eyes were now permanent, and she was hurting more than ever. Maybe Anthony had been right all those years ago; maybe she was just a pathetic, sensitive weakling. 

 

It was during this time that Heather's mum and dad split. One day, her mum was there, and the next, her father was informing her over dinner that she would not be coming back. Heather was heartbroken. What did I do? She would think to herself as she stared up at her creamy ceiling during the nights she couldn't sleep. Which was now most of them. She blamed herself for their divorce; for not being polite, popular, pretty, for being too sensitive and a bother to be around. She genuinely thought these things about herself, but she didn't dare tell anyone about them, much less her dad. 

 

It was also during this time that Heather M. and Heather C. found out about Heather D's habit of throwing up after eating. They would follow her to the bathrooms and hold her hair back whilst trying not to gag themselves from the smell. At first Heather D. tried to deny she was doing it deliberately, by claiming she was just sick, but after 3 weeks, she couldn't really deny it anymore.

 

"I don't know, I guess it just, well, it makes me feel better and skinnier. Try it, you'll see what I mean." 

 

Heather C's nose wrinkled in disgust. "No thanks,"

 

"Heather?"

 

Heather's head snapped up from where she had been staring  the ground, lost in her own thoughts. "Huh?"

 

"Try it? You'll feel better, I promise" she held her hand out, motioning for Heather to join her in front of the toilet. With trembling knees, Heather got up and moved over. Heather showed her how to kneel up over the bowl, and even just the sight of its contents were enough to make her sick. She brought her shaking fingers up to her mouth, and looked at Heather for reassurance, who nodded to her. She pressed her fingers to the back of her throat, but only gagged a little. 

 

"Further" prompted Heather. Doing as she was told, Heather pressed her fingers firmly against the back of her tongue, and sure enough, she was soon emptying her guts into the high school toilet. She coughed violently as she stopped gagging, and sat back on her heels, gasping for breath.

 

"Well done" Heather congratulated her, patting her gently on the back. "How do you feel?"

 

Heather twisted to look at Heather Chandler, still stood with a look of absolute disgust on her pretty face. She sent daggers at Heather McNamara and spun on her own heels to leave.

 

"Well?"

 

"Uh...good, I guess?" She answered.

 

"See you later then," and Heather Duke stood, washed her hands, popped a mint in her mouth and left, leaving Heather McNamara sitting in front of the disgusting item. 

 

Heather felt cold, and clammy, and she NEVER wanted to do that again. But, she thought, it feels good to have my tummy empty again. She liked the feeling, the feeling of control. She wouldn't mind this all the time.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_So someone must go_

_The tiniest lifeboat_

_With the people I know_

 

Heather was 14 when she discovered two new things about herself: 1) men were horrible pigs, and 2) why was she was so intrigued by the dark-haired girl in the blue jacket that roamed the halls of Westerburg High School? 

 

It was the first real party that Heather had ever been to, and she was very excited about it. Heather C. was the only one actually invited, so she invited Heather and Heather D. Heather wore her favourite lemon yellow sundress, heels and cardigan, and then Heather and Heather came over to do their makeup. 

 

"Bye Mr McNamara!" Heather C. called over her shoulder as she dragged the other two girls out to her mom's car.

 

"Bye Dad," Heather whispered too. He fixed her with a steely glare. "I'll be home by 12:30, and Heather's mom will drop us off and pick us up."

 

"Oh geez, I wish your mom could do that," he sneered right back at her. "To bad she left your sorry ass. Whatever, slut, just be quiet when you get back."

 

Heather nodded quietly, and hurried after her friends who were waiting impatiently in the red car.

 

"Finally Heather! We've been waiting for ages for you, so we decided you're going into 7/11 for us," Mrs Chandler exclaimed from the drivers seat, the same look on her slim face as Heather's father had had when she talked to him 30 seconds ago.

 

"For gods sake Mom, just leave it!" Heather C. huffed from the passenger seat. She shot a small smile at Heather as the car pulled away from the pavement. "Tonight will be the best!"

 

                                *

One thing Heather also knew about Heather Chandler, was that she was not always right. Within minutes of arriving at the party, Heather and Heather had abandoned her and now she couldn't find them. She ended up sitting on a dirty sofa in the living room of the house, a beer in her left hand, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt with her right. When Heather had first told them about the party, Heather had assumed that it was only for their year, but as she sat on the sofa, she knew that most of them were much older. Kurt and Ram were there of course, they would never miss something like this in fact they-.

 

"Heya, beautiful," a slurred voice broke through Heather's thoughts. "Whatcha doin'?" 

 

"Nothing, leave me alone," she retorted, the feeling around her chest tightening. She struggled to draw breath as he came nearer her, until he was almost sitting on her lap and she felt like she might faint at any second. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, his iron grip cutting off circulation. She cried out in pain, but if anybody had heard, they didn't help. The older boy dragged her struggling behind him up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, throwing her in an ungainly heap on the bed. She immediately drew her knees to her chest and scooted as far back as she could to the headboard, absolutely petrified and eyes starting to drip.

 

"Please, don't. Just leave me alone," she whispered. But he just laughed.

 

"Come on baby, you know you want this just as much as me." He crawled towards her, his eyes lustful and dark with need. He reached out and stoked down the side of her face with a feather light touch, his fingers barely grazing her cheek, but still she flinched back violently. His gaze grew cold at that, and he grabbed her arms, pinning them to her side. He began sloppily kissing her face and neck, his breath hot against her freezing skin. She squirmed and tried to get away, but it was no use. He kissed her on the mouth and started to take of her clothing. Heather bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood and making him yell, but that didn't stop him, he just got more violent, ripping her dress and slapping her across the face.

 

"Don't even think about screaming or I'll kill you, you filthy, useless whore." He growled as he threw her bra and panties away and flung himself on her. 

 

And she didn't.

 

Not even when he forced his way into her. Not even when he took the only thing that was important to her. Not even when it hurt so much, she wanted to die. Not even when he left her, alone and naked on the bed at the house of the party. Not even when she silently cried, hot wet tears streaking down her face as she quietly begged to know Why? No, Heather McNamara would never scream.

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Everyone's pushing_

_Everyone's fighting_

_Storms are approaching_

_There's nowhere to hide_

 

It was Heather Chandler who found her. She stumbled into the room with another boy, but as soon as she caught sight of her friend crying on the bed, she grew bitter.

 

"Out! Go, get out!" She shouted at the boy, shoving him out the door and locking it. Her expression grew softer as she turned to look at the bed again. "Heather, are you OK? What happened?" She walked over to the bed and helped Heather sit up. She pulled the sheet up to cover her body, and rested her arm around her shoulder.

 

Heather couldn't do anything but just stare vacantly at the floor, her thoughts racing at 100 miles an hour. She knew she looked like hell, but honestly at the moment she couldn't care. Everything around her was a numb buzz, and everything was cold. She was aware of Heather sitting beside her, but she still flinched back with a shudder when Heather stroked her arm.

 

"Heather? Are you OK to move?" All Heather could do was nod once, badly recognising what the words sent, but this was Heather Chandler, her best friend, and she would never do anything to hurt her. "Can you stand up and I'll get your clothes, and then we can leave." 

 

Standing up slowly on shaking legs, Heather began to cry again with the pain. Her legs and body ached, but not as much as the incruciating pain between her legs. Heather found her underwear and bra and helped Heather into them, before picking up the shredded dress.

 

"I don't know if you can wear this, but put it on and you can have my jacket."

 

Heather slipped the ripped material over her head and arms, and then took the red blazer Heather Chandler held out towards her. It was warm and smelt like Heather's favourite lavender perfume. She inhaled deeply, breathing the scent right in, and a fresh wave of tears fell from her eyes. She stumbled forwards and grabbed onto Heathers arm, who smiled cautiously at her, and helped her towards the door. They left the room and luckily bumped into Heather D. on the stairs. She was dragged along behind Heather C. and Heather M. complaining drunkenly, but as soon as they were outside in the orangy-yellow glow of the streetlamp, she saw the state of her friend and shut up right away.

 

Heather C. drove them all home - her being the least intoxicated - and dropped Heather D. off first. She then drive in silence back to Heather M's house. It was dark and a light rain had started to fall. Heather sat stiff and rigid in her seat, her knees pulled to her chest. She stared blankly out the window, and jumped with a small squeak when Heather placed her hand on her knee. She couldn't even bring herself to smile. They pulled up outside the house, and Heather helped Heather out and walked her up to the door. 

 

"Do you have your key?"

 

Heather nodded and reached into her dress pocket. Heather took the key and slowly opened the door, knowing that with any luck Mr McNamara would be passed out on the sofa. They crept up the stairs and into Heather's room, where they both promptly collapsed onto the bed.

 

"Do you want to shower?"

 

Heather only nodded again and stood up, teeteringly limping towards her bathroom. Heather rushed up to help her, grabbing her arm again and opening the door. She took her blazer back and helped Heather strip down to her underwear, before turning on the shower.

 

"I'll be right outside if you need me." She whispered in Heathers ear, before turning and slipping out of the room.

 

Heather went through the rest of the motions almost mechanically; she stripped and stepped into the shower, increasing the heat until it was almost unbearable. It pounded down on her bruised skin, and seemed to burn into her soul. Unable to bear it, Heather turned the temperature down and picked up her shampoo. After lathering it into her hair, she grabbed the soap and her razor, and mechanically went through the motions of shaving her legs. She was so out of it that she barely felt the nick as the blade caught her skin. She only noticed when the water turned red around her, and she knew it wasn't from Him. She looked down at the cut and immediately became entranced by the beautiful flow of red coming from it. What harm could it do now? She picked up the razor and pressed it against the edge of the bathtub, breaking it apart and leaving the blade loose. She picked it up delicately and placed it on her thigh. Should she? She made her decision. Red soon ran in rivers down her leg, and at last her mind was quiet in a peaceful and dizzy euphoric state.

 


	6. Chapter 6

_If_ _I_ _say_ _the_ _wrong_ _thing_  
_Or_ _I_ _wear_ _the_ _wrong_ _outfit_  
_They'll_ _throw_ _me_ _right_ _over_ _the_ _side_ _!_

 

"SHUT UP, HEATHER!"

 

"Sorry, Heather!"

 

Heather Mac slid down further in her seat, trying desperately to shield herself from the screaming match between her friends. Unfortunately, she was sitting between them today, meaning she couldn't get away. As the shouting continued, Heather tried to pull her long yellow sleeves over her bony hands, but all she managed to do was cause them to rub against the new gashes on her lower arm. She flinched violently and jumped back slightly as Heather C. smacked her hand off of the table whist trying to make a point to Heather D. Her breathing sped up, and for a moment, she panicked, and she was back at the party; the slimy hands sliding greasily over her weak pathetic body...  
She shot up out of her seat, and rushed to the bathroom. 

 

She couldn't breathe. Her head was pounding and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Her eyes were wild and her hair a mess as she clutched desperately at the chipped porcelain sink in front of her, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She sunk to her knees, thin legs trembling uncontrollably. She curled up in the corner of the bathroom, hugging her knees to her chest, trying desperately to calm her breathing, but failing miserably.

 

The door slammed open, and in strutted Heather C. and Heather D. Heather D. headed straight for a toilet stall, whilst Heather C. stood by the mirror re-aplying her mascara, but as soon as the cubicle door shut, she placed the makeup tube down, and moved over to Heather. She crouched down in front of her, and gently held her arm out, much like you would do with a scared puppy. 

 

"You OK?" She asked, concern (FAKE concern, Heather thought, why would anyone care about _her_?) laced in her voice. She carefully took Heather's hands, and pulled her up before running her fingers under Heather Mac's eyes, getting rid of the runny mascara, and then sorting her hair out, pulling the front sections behind her ear and securing it with a yellow bow. "I'm really sorry for scaring you just now. I thought the panic attacks had stopped? It's been 4 months, Heather"

 

Heather could only manage a small shrug, trying to look at anything but Heather's face. True, it had been 4 months since that fatal night, but Heather's nightmares and panic attacks hadn't let up. She was still plagued at night, and most nights, could barely sleep at all. 

 

"You need to tell me whenever something like this happens! Duke was so drunk she doesn't remember anything, and I'm the only one who knows!"

 

"Sorry, Heather." 

 

"Just...just tell me next time, OK?" Heather C. said, a foreign tenderness in her voice. She pulled Heather's sleeves, and straightened her jacket and gently patting her down, before the door opened again, and Heather's breathing sped up. It was her. The dark haired mysterious girl who slinked around the school and if you asked anyone who she was, they would answer _who_?

 

She ignored Heather and Heather, and Heather who was still in the bathroom stall. She began washing her hands, and what looked like a drink stain from her jacket. Heather couldn't draw her eyes off her. The girl looked up, and when she saw Heather watching her in the mirror, she smiled back warmly, causing Heather to blush and look away.

 

Yes, Heather McNamara was definitely intrigued by the tall dark figure dressed in blue that lurked around Westerburg.

 

* 

 

After saving them from detention, Heather learned that her name was Veronica, and her adoration for the girl only grew. She stood by Veronica's side when Heather and Heather were arguing, and comforted her when she got her disastrous test results. Her grades had dropped significantly since the party, and Heather found it so difficult to concentrate, that she sometimes just gave up completely and stared at the clock for the rest of the period. She knew when she did that, that she would fail, but she couldn't bring herself to care, but when she got the results, she couldn't help but berate herself for all her failures. Her parents yelled at her a lot for that.The razor was now a daily occurrence, and the scars littered over her pale forearms and thighs. Still the only person who knew about the party was Heather C, and like she'd promised, she kept quiet about it, carrying on with her bitchy façade, throwing Mac a concerned gaze every so often. 

 

Heather began spending a lot of time in her car, just driving around, gping nowhere, preferring to see the world through the tinted windows of her Volkswagen Beetle. No-one - not even Chandler - knew what she did, and she preferred it that way. It might seem stupid, but she felt like if she didn't have her virginity, she could make up for it in isolating herself from everyone. She couldn't be a burden to her friends if she didn't have any in the first place.

 

It was her escape from reality, and combined with the cutting and not eating occasionally (well, most days), Heather drifted through school and life, slowly coming closer to the edge.


End file.
